Pearl and Evelyn were sitting on a fallen headstone, drinking and discussing the injustice of life, to them in particular, and to all in general. They had just killed the first quart when the first bunch of girls, headed by Mickey, came into the cemetery—some were dressed as though they were going to a party, others in street suits, but none in mourning, as mourning could only be used once in a great while, so why buy mourning for the one funeral, and be stuck with something you couldn't wear to hustle in.
"My goodness," said Mickey. "How long have you been waiting here?"
"Oh, not very long—want a drink?" asked Evelyn.
"Yeah—we brought several pints along with us—there comes some more of the girls," as she pointed along the road to about fifteen girls, all in gay colors, coming along as if they were going to a picnic.
"This is one of them things I sure don't like to go through with it," said one of the girls.
"Me either," answered another.
"Well, it's near two o'clock—it won't be long now," remarked still another.
"I think that's the hearse coming now," said Pearl, as she shaded her eyes with her hand, looking down the road.
"We tried to get a taxi to bring us over, but not one of them would come," said one of the newly arrived girls.
"Well, you know there has been some talk about a revolution going to take place over here," said one of the other girls.